Sheila bought Emma's knitting bag, complete with needles and stash. She gave it to Erin.
Emma was Brent's mother on the show. She knit constantly, especially at home in Dog River, while keeping husband Oscar in line. We were never quite sure what she was knitting, just that she was. Emma and her knitting were well-known in fibre circles. Owning her knitting supplies isn't quite on par with, say, scoring Queen Victoria's knitting pins, but for some, it comes close.
The thing is, Sheila isn't a knitter or a fibre person. She laughed (a bit nervously, I thought) as the knitters at drop-in gave a collective gasp of admiration when Erin told them what Sheila had done. She gamely sat with Erin as she tried out an IST Turkish spindle. She even spun a metre or two herself. Erin tells me that Sheila attends Knit Night with her, but hasn't tried to knit. (Yet. Knitters live in hope at the prospect of a new recruit.)
Sheila does this because she's Erin's friend. It doesn't matter if she doesn't understand Erin's fascination with fibre. She supports it because she supports Erin.
I have friends like this, who take an interest in what I do although they may be puzzled as to how I can spend nearly every waking moment playing with, writing about or pondering on string. (Some days, I don't understand it myself.) They value what I do because they value me. The feeling is mutual.
The treasure of a friendship doesn't rest in what those friends give one another. The treasure comes from honouring the friend. Sometimes that treasure shows up in a simple knitting basket, dimestore needles and skeins of acrylic yarn.
By the way, Sheila isn't available as a friend rental. I asked.
|One of my many knitting and fibre baskets|